


i'll take this chance (so call me blind)

by mckayla (steveromanov)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Sentence Prompts, Tumblr Prompt, certain chapters AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4293114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveromanov/pseuds/mckayla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6 sentence prompts taken from tumblr.</p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 1:</span></b> "So why did I have to punch that guy?"</p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 2:</span></b> "Please put me down it's just a sprained ankle."</p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 3:</span></b> "The skirt is short on purpose."</p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 4:</span></b> "I'm sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately."</p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 5:</span></b> "Who wouldn't be angry you ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years!"</p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 6:</span></b> "I'm going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts taken from the [Ridiculous Sentence Prompts](http://steveromanov.tumblr.com/post/123479212788/ridiculous-sentence-prompts) post on tumblr.
> 
> I probably won't use the actual sentence in the prompt; I'm more or less using them as guidelines for each chapter. Also, I know I have a butt ton of prompts to fill, but I've been suffering from a horrid case of writer's block this past month and this is just to get back on track. I promise I'll go back to working and filling prompts ASAP. I had a few of them mostly finished already but then my computer screwed up and I lost all the documents :( 
> 
> Title taken from the song "I Was Made For Loving You" by Tori Kelly feat. Ed Sheeran.

“Hey, you!” Steve spun around at the call, only to find a short red-headed girl whom he had never met in his life beckoning for him. Well, at least he thought she was. He had never seen this girl before—his college’s campus was pretty huge, after all, and Steve only had a handful of friends. Just to be sure, he looked over his shoulder to see if the girl hadn’t _actually_ been talking to him. The slightly impatient sigh she gave in return caused him to glance back at her. “Yes, you. The big one. I’m talking to you.”

Defensively, (a lot of the brawls he had gotten into as his younger self _had_ started out a lot like this, after all) Steve clutched his sketchbook closer to his chest. “Er…yes?”

“You look like the Knight-In-Shining-Armor type. Come here.”

Despite just meeting her, and despite the fact that she was being rather abrasive and straight-forward to a _stranger_ , Steve found himself obliging. When he stopped a foot or so in front of her, he found that she wasn’t just short, she was small. Incredibly so. Steve’s growth spurt made him skyrocket up to six feet, but this girl was still remarkably small. Oddly enough it just made her more intimidating.

“What’s your name?” She asked, her tone barely holding patience.

“Rogers. Uh, Steve Rogers.”

She quirked an eyebrow, as if she had heard that name before. Steve highly doubted it—there was more of a chance of her knowing Bucky than anything, and with the way this girl acted and looked—she was _beautiful_ , he couldn’t deny—Steve was sure he would have heard about her from his best friend if she’d been among the many girls he’d won over.

“Right. Would you like to make a quick buck, Rogers?”

“Um,” Steve stammered, eyebrows drawing together in confusion and, if he was being honest, more than a touch of wariness. “Depends?”

Apparently she took that as an affirmative answer, because the next thing she did was place her hands on either of Steve’s biceps and forcibly turned him around so that he was gazing at the patch of grass in the quad where a lot of the students liked to hang out. The girl— _she’s terribly strong for her size, jesus christ_ —removed one hand to point a finger at a dirty blond guy leaning against the trunk of a thick tree, purple tee clinging tightly to his obviously muscled frame. Whatever this girl wanted out of him, Steve knew it most likely wasn’t anything good.

“You see that guy?” Steve nodded his answer. “I need you to punch him. Don’t worry, he can take it. I’ll tell you why afterwards, so long as you actually do it.”

“Uh, right, okay…” Steve swallowed. Was this girl crazy? “And if I say no?”

She looked up at him, face not giving away any of her emotions as her green eyes met his blue ones. “Then I find another guy to do it. You just seemed like the most suitable person to get the job done.” She pointedly looked at the broad width of his arms, which were highlighted by a tight t-shirt of his own.

“And you can’t tell me _why_ you want me to punch this random stranger?”

“Well, he’s not a stranger to _me_ , but yeah. Like I said: punch first, answers later.” She raised another eyebrow at him. “So? What do you say?”

Steve casted another look at his maybe-target. The guy, despite his build, looked mostly unassuming. A little unkempt, yes, but that was pretty much it. Like the girl beside him, Steve had never seen this guy before in his life. He was meeting two strangers in one day, a record for him, though one was proposing that he punch the other in the head. With that thought, why in the _world_ was he debating actually saying yes?

Steve told himself that it was because she was more terrifying than the guy probably ever could be, which was true, but a small voice in the back of his head suggested that it was also because he found the girl incredibly, incredibly gorgeous and unable to actually tell her no. He told that voice to shove it, right before he let out a reluctant sigh, turned, and said, “I’m going to regret this, but okay.”

“Seriously?”

“Did you ask me to punch him in the hopes that I would say no?”

She actually smirked then, and Steve found himself feeling more and more inclined to say whatever he needed to bring that smile out of her again. “Smartass,” she said. “Just go over there, sock him in the head, then come back. Don’t worry about any repercussions. After, I’ll give you all the answers you want, alright?”

Steve sucked in a breath. “Alright.”

She gave him a little push forward. “Break a leg,” she said, and when Steve cast her a raised eyebrow of his own over his shoulder, she rolled her eyes and added, “Punch a face. You know what I mean.”

With that, Steve turned and stalked towards the guy leaning against the tree on the outskirts of the quad. Either he didn’t notice Steve approaching, or he simply thought that it wasn’t _him_ that Steve was on his way over to see. Well, _punch_ , but the guy didn’t know that, probably. Steve steeled himself. The girl—whose name Steve hadn’t even learned, he now realized—promised no repercussions. There was no mistrusting her word now, especially since he was standing right in front of the guy now, the back of his neck hot and his stomach practically doing backflips.

The guy still wasn’t looking up at him, though he had to notice the human-shaped, six-foot shadow that was being casted over him. Steve cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

The guy’s head snapped up from where he had been staring at his phone. “Can I help you?” His voice was patient, not unkind, and Steve suddenly felt bad for what he was about to do. For all he knew, this man could have been the nicest person in the world. He could have been going to college in hopes of becoming a scientist and cure cancer someday (though, based on his look, Steve highly doubted that). He could be passionate about animals or the like. He could be looking to become a lawyer, or a child services worker, or a therapist…

Steve also supposed that he had to have done _something_ to warrant the red-headed girl wanting him socked in the face, so there was that too.

Instead of a verbal answer, Steve instead cocked his arm back and connected the flat of his knuckles square against the guy’s cheekbone. He stumbled backwards into the tree, a strangled curse making its way past his lips, but Steve didn’t stay long enough to hear whatever the guy had to say, as he was already stalking quickly back to where the girl was waiting on the other side of the quad.

She gave a low whistle once Steve was in ear shot. “You have a hell of a right hook, Rogers.” Steve looked sharply up her, his cheeks burning. He couldn’t believe he actually just punched a stranger in the face just because a beautiful woman asked him to. “I suppose you want your answers now, huh?”

“I suppose,” he echoed, a tad bit annoyed with her utter nonchalance, but the smirk that spread across her lips next told him that she wasn’t the least bit offended by his sharp tone.

“Well, for starters, it’s nice to meet you,” she held out her hand to shake. Steve glanced between her pale, slender fingers and her calm, seemingly soft features before taking her hand in his. “That guy you just punched is my best friend, Clint. I _would_ have punched him myself, but I’m afraid my hand hasn’t quite recovered from the last time. So thanks.”

“Uh…nice to meet you too?” Steve offered, and this time she actually _laughed_ , tipping her head back and exposing the smooth column of her neck. “Why did you want me to punch him anyway?”

“He’s an idiot. The specifics are boring, really, but just know that he deserved it and he won’t do anything as revenge. And that I’m thankful for you. I guess I owe you now, don’t I?”

Steve shook his head, a small smile on his face. “No, don’t worry about it.”

“A guy that not only punches people because a stranger asked him to do so, but also a guy that doesn’t require anything in return,” she crossed her arms over her chest, regarding him with a smirk. “Are you even real?”

“One-hundred percent, I promise.”

She laughed again. “Well, how about this. Since you’re being entirely too humble for your own good, I’ll let you take me out for coffee as compensation. That way it’s a win-win for both of us.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up so far that he thought they might’ve connected with his hairline. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“I figured if you’d punch someone in the face for me, you’d also agree to go on a date,” she shrugged.

“Good point,” Steve chuckled, despite the blush rapidly creeping up his neck. “Okay. Sounds like a deal…?”

“Natasha,” she smiled. “My name’s Natasha.”

He smiled, too. “Sounds like a deal, Natasha.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has so little plot it should be illegal, but to hell with it.

Natasha prided herself on many things, among which her ability to pull through a significant amount of pain without complaining or crying or (and Thor once said he envied this about her) even giving _away_ the fact that she was hurt in the first place. Now, this wasn’t to say that she didn’t have her limits; she’d suffered her fair share of injuries that made her want to claw her nails into something soft and forgiving, and a girl could only take so much, even the Black Widow. Still, those limits extended pretty far.

And they definitely surpassed that of a sprained ankle.

“Steve,” Natasha started, voice coming out smooth despite the fact that her body was jumping slightly with every step that the aforementioned super soldier took. He was looking forward, pointedly ignoring the stern look that she was currently giving him. “Put me down.”

His answer came out quick and just as stern as her expression. “No.”

“Rogers,” she tried again, more harshly. “Put. Me. Down. _Now_.”

“Romanoff,” he countered, and she wanted to hit him for it. “ _No_.”

Natasha huffed out a frustrated breath. She and Steve had just gotten back from a brief mission in Chicago, a simple data extraction from a minor Hydra cell that was really only supposed to be comprised of scientists and a few guards, based on the information that Fury had gotten from whatever sources he still had. His information, evidently, was wrong. The two Avengers arrived at the unassuming facility with the intent of sneaking in, grabbing the data, and sneaking back out, only they had _snuck_ right into a definite trap. What was supposed to just be “scientists and a few guards” ended up being no scientists and more than a few heavily armed guards, and though she and Steve had faced worse in past situations, this was not something either of them was exactly prepared for. That didn’t mean they didn’t handle the situation, though. While Steve got to work tossing his shield around and downing guards one by one, Natasha took the opportunity to slink off to the datapoint and retrieve the information they were sent there for in the first place. And all was well and good—that is until a brute of a man smashed his way into the room and forced her into a hand-to-hand brawl.

Again, she had faced worse; faced bigger. It didn’t take her long to subdue the guy—she knew pressure points, knew where to hit (one to the groin, one to the solar plexus, one to the gall bladder), and knew where to finish. In a swift move, she had jumped up and wrapped her legs tightly around the Hydra agent’s neck, yanking his body down and flipping her own mid-air so that she could land flat on her feet. And she _would_ have, if the agent hadn’t knocked her aside at the last second, causing her footing to come out a little sloppier than she would have liked and making her ankle twist in a way that had her swallowing down a grunt and schooling the wince from her features. Steve came in after that, slamming the flat of his shield against the back of the agent’s head before immediately rushing over to her side and scooping her up off the floor. She hadn’t left the super soldier’s arms since then, and they were now stepping out of the elevator at Stark Tower and walking down the main hall on her floor.

“It’s just a sprained ankle,” she tried again. “Put me down or you’ll be suffering worse in a second.”

Steve finally looked at her, and the expression on his face made her grit her teeth. He was thoroughly amused, the bastard. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, no. Don’t try to flirt with me now. Not when you’re treating me like a child.” She retorted, though her tone came out lighter than she meant it to. It only made him smirk. She struggled not to do the same. “I’m not gonna ask you again, Rogers. Let me down.”

“We’re almost there.”

“Exactly, so I can walk the rest of the way _myself_ , thank you.”

“Uh-uh. I don’t think so.”

She sighed again, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And _you_ shouldn’t be walking on a hurt ankle, sprained or otherwise,” he argued.

She fell quiet, stewing in her own irritation. Then she huffed out another breath, this time out of reluctant defeat. “Fine. But if you let Stark walk in on this, I swear I am going to make you suffer the longest dry spell of your life, Rogers. Forget seventy years.”

He cracked a wide grin. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! You may or may not have noticed, but I switched the prompts for chapters 3 and 4. Not a major change, but I thought i'd give you a heads up. Thanks for reading (and waiting)!

For probably the hundredth time that night, Steve irately casted his glance to where Natasha was standing on the other side of the bar, a flirtatious smile on her face as she ran her hand not-so-subtly along their mark’s bicep. Steve grit his teeth, his hand tightening around the now-warm glass of beer pressed against his palm, his fist sitting in a puddle of condensation. He was fully aware that the bartender had been watching him warily out of the corner of his eye for the past twenty minutes, but he didn’t care. He was annoyed. He…

 _Focus, Rogers. It’s just a mission. It doesn’t mean anything. She’s still your girlfriend. Don’t risk the mission just because you’re jealous_.

Steve cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from the pair. Their mark was the incompetent but well-informed son of a sadistic and ruthless slave trader, and he apparently had a thing for women in skimpy outfits, because Natasha was currently flaunting all her _assets_ in a tight-fitting top and the shortest skirt Steve had ever seen in his life. She looked good, he couldn’t deny, and in any other situation (one where he didn’t have to watch her flirt with another man while wearing _that_ ) it probably would have made him want to haul her into their bedroom right then and there. But right here, right now, it only made him want to march over and knock their mark’s lights out. It didn’t help that he was grabby, too, skimming his hands along Natasha’s back and wedging a leg between hers so that she could lean against his body.

Why did Fury think this was going to be a good idea, sending Steve on a mission where he’d have to witness this? It was most likely a test, or maybe a way to prove a point. Steve could almost hear the former Director now, his eye calculating and judgmental despite the fact that he was talking to a man who had nearly a hundred pounds on him. _You can’t let your relationship compromise you, Captain._

Of course, Steve knew that. He _knew_ that the flirting didn’t mean anything to Natasha. She was his. She made that abundantly clear in the way she gripped him tighter in the morning when he was getting up to shower, not wanting to part with his warmth. Or the way she affectionately rolled her eyes and poked his side when he made a stupid joke. Or even the way she threw her head back and cried his name, defenses down, body arched and trembling as she reached her peak. She loved him, and he knew it. But it was _hard_. It was incredibly difficult having to watch the woman you loved, the woman you were absolutely positive you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, flirt with another man. No matter that he was just a mark, that they were on a mission. It was hard, and it made Steve a little nauseous.

The comm he forgot was in his ear softly crackled to life. “He just left to use the bathroom. I’m going to follow in thirty seconds. Wait ten more after that, then come in.” Natasha paused and took a sip of her drink as to not appear suspicious. Apparently Steve was supposed to use that time to reply, because when she was done, she asked, “Did you get that?”

“Yeah. Roger,” he answered after clearing his throat. His voice was gruffer than he would have liked, and he definitely didn’t miss the odd look Natasha gave him as she turned and disappeared in the crowd of patrons, heading toward the bathroom. She looked irritated. Steve braced himself for an argument later on. Not only was he endangering Natasha’s life, but every other civilian in the bar was at risk if Steve couldn’t keep his own personal feelings under control. If their mark was any less inept, he probably would have noticed Steve watching him and Natasha before she even started laying it on thick. Fortunately for the two Avengers, though, he was pretty clueless. And also fortunately, at least for Steve, their mission was almost over. Sliding off the stool as he slowly counted up to ten, the super soldier tossed a few bills onto the bar counter and slinked off towards the restrooms, head bent low as to not bring any attention to himself as he weaved through the crowd.

By the time he got to the men’s room and pushed open the door, Natasha already had their mark handcuffed to a urinal. He spit at Natasha’s feet, growling profanities at her in Russian, but she remained unaffected, instead waiting for him to finish. When he did, his chest was heaving, and his dark hair was sweat-soaked and hanging in front of his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow, standing with one hand on her hip. “You done?” The mark snarled and opened his mouth to curse at her some more. Steve watched as Natasha sighed and, in one fluid motion, lifted her leg high and kicked him on the side of the head, knocking him out. “ _Mudak_ ,” she muttered, before turning to Steve and wordlessly handing him the handcuff’s keys.

Steve moved over and removed the cuffs from around the mark’s wrists before bending down and hauling him off the tile, draping his arm over his shoulders. Natasha watched in silence, her face expressionless when Steve glanced over to look at her, and he pretended that it didn’t affect him. It did, though, and a lot. He knew he screwed up; let his jealousy nearly compromise his thinking. But she had to understand that, no matter how many ops he went on, Steve wasn’t a spy. He was a soldier, and soldiers fought with their hearts just as much as their heads. Separating mind from emotion, blurring lines, working in all the shades of _grey_ that was the spy world didn’t come as naturally to him as it did her. And if she had a problem with that, then maybe…

“Steve.” Natasha’s voice broke him out of his reverie. Looking around, Steve realized that they’d already made it back to the van they’d been issued for the job, and that he’d somehow subconsciously loaded the mark in the back while simultaneously lost in his own thoughts. He felt a twinge of guilt at that. _Not paying attention. Risking the mission, again. You’re on a roll, Rogers._ “Steve, look at me.”

Truthfully, he didn’t want to. He didn’t feel like arguing, or thinking about what their relationship could end up as when they were finished. Inwardly, he scoffed. A spy and a soldier. It was probably cursed from the very start. He loved her, yes, and she him, but they were two sides of the same coin.  Two warriors with different tactics, different views, different—

Suddenly Steve’s head was being pulled down, a firm hand wrapped around the nape of his neck and a soft palm cupped around the edge of his jaw. The kiss was almost exactly like the one they shared on the escalator, the first one they _ever_ shared, if you counted it. It was chaste and stiff with surprise, but when Natasha pulled back, Steve saw something in her eyes that made all of the doubts that had been running around in his head for the past five minutes dissipate into thin air.

“You know I love you, right?” It was firm, more of a statement than a question, but the way she stroked her thumb along Steve’s jawbone only made him duck back down for another kiss, this one hard, fierce, and an answer without words if there ever was one. Steve hugged her tight, kissed her until he was afraid she couldn’t breathe anymore, and when he finally pulled away, it was only to rest his forehead against hers so that he could look into her eyes, bright as they were even in the night.

“Yeah,” he nodded softly, closing his own eyes briefly and licking his lips. How could he be so stupid, to ever doubt what they had? “Yeah, I do.”

Natasha smiled. “Good,” she said. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

“I won’t,” he promised, smiling against her mouth as he leaned down to kiss her again. “I won’t.”

And again, if ever an action said anything without words, this one said, _I love you, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (from google, so please let me know if it's not correct):
> 
>  _Mudak_ \- asshole


End file.
